“Could you tell me how all of this works so I can stop looking like such a dumbass?” He shoved his hands into his pockets and waited for her to speak.
There were a few more-than-uncomfortable moments of silence before she finally did. “What are you looking for exactly?” She might not have been an escort, but she knew an opportunity when she saw one. She could potentially earn a few hundred bucks and come out of the whole situation unscathed. No harm done.
“I need someone to take to my brother’s wedding.”
His answer surprised her. “You came to a strip club to find a date to a wedding? Aren’t hot professional athletes supposed to be able to find dates without paying for them?” Shit. It occurred to her that her comment was probably insulting, though no more than someone thinking she was an escort.
“You think I’m hot?”
Ryan rolled her eyes. “That’s the part you choose to focus on?”
He shrugged, an amused grin on his face.
“You’re good looking, yes,” she said, aware of how formal her response sounded. “Though something tells me you know that already. So my question stands. Why would you need to pay someone to go to a wedding?”
“Because it’s in Connecticut.”
“And?”
“And you’d have to be up there for a few days and share a hotel room with me.”
She tried to keep her face blank so she didn’t convey how appealing that proposition sounded. “Why do you need a date at all?” she asked. She’d been wondering that since he’d first said that he needed to take someone to the wedding. “You could go alone.”
“I could. But then my family would be riding my ass about finding a girlfriend and settling down. If they think I already have one, I won’t have to deal with that.”
“You need someone to go to Connecticut with you? That’s all?”
Ben laughed. “You probably wouldn’t be saying ‘That’s all’ if you knew my family.”
“I meant . . . you wouldn’t need me to do anything else?”
“Like what?” Ben asked, clearly confused.
She stared at him for a moment, almost laughing at how innocent he seemed.
“Oh my God! You’re talking about sex?” he asked. His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. “Jesus, no. I’ve never paid for . . . that,” he said. “And sleeping with your clients isn’t necessarily a part of your job, right? Like it would be for a prostitute? Not that I’m comparing you to a prostitute,” he added quickly. “Because you’re an escort. Right?”
She could tell how flustered he was getting, and it amused her. Though in truth it should’ve made her more cautious. This guy could easily be a cop. But her gut—which hadn’t been wrong much in her life—told her he was what he seemed to be: a normal guy who needed someone to help him dodge his family for a few days. The fact that he didn’t seem to have much, or any, experience with this sort of thing, set her mind at ease. “Right. I’m definitely an escort,” she assured him with a confident nod.
“Okay, good. So is it something you’d be interested in doing?”
Ryan looked at him curiously. “Having sex with you?”
“No. Going to Connecticut.”
“Oh. Um . . .” Ryan tried to evaluate her current predicament as objectively as possible. Which was difficult given her current financial situation. And though she certainly felt like the man in front of her would keep her safe, she didn’t know that. Agreeing to go to a different state with a guy she’d met only minutes before could be a risk that wasn’t worth the reward.
But then there was the simple fact that he’d given her his full name and claimed to be a professional athlete. It wasn’t like he was asking her to leave with him tonight. She could agree to the arrangement now and then do a little googling to see he was who he claimed to be. Because she doubted that someone in the spotlight would pick up a woman, give her some story about a family wedding, and then murder her when she agreed to be his date.
It was settled then. She’d agree. At least for now. “Sure. I guess,” she said, standing a little taller and straightening her low-cut black shirt. “We should probably discuss the terms first, though.” If she was going to pass herself off as an escort, she needed to seem like a professional. The thought almost made her laugh.
“Right, of course,” Ben said. “Do you have a daily rate or something? How does the pricing work?”
Good question. “Well, I’ve never been hired for twenty-four hours before, let alone for multiple days, so it’d be hard for me to come up with an exact number.” At least her answer was an honest one.
“Can you give me like a ballpark figure maybe? Tell me what you charge for a night out, and we’ll go from there.”
“A few hundred dollars usually.” Sure. That sounds right. Probably. Maybe.
Ben seemed to be calculating it in his head. “We’d probably need to get together a few times before the wedding, but I’m not sure exactly how many times. How about we do this, I’ll pay you five thousand for the week of the wedding. I can give you half up front, and the other half afterward. Then I’ll pay you a hundred dollars an hour for any time we spend together beyond that? How does that sound?”
Ryan tried not to seem as excited as she felt. Five thousand dollars was more than she’d made in the last four months, and now she had the opportunity to earn that in a week. It almost seemed like she was stealing money from the poor guy, and the thought made her feel guilty. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and bit her lip. “That’ll be fine.”
“So you’re agreeing to the job?”
“Sure. Sounds like fun.”
“But I didn’t even tell you when it is yet. What if you have another job that week?”
“Oh. Right. When is it?” Not that it matters.
“The wedding’s July seventeenth. Do you have any other jobs around then?”
Ryan twisted her face in thought until finally she spoke. “Nope. I’m all yours.”
Chapter Five
Ben had suggested that in order to get to know one another better, they move from the alley next to a strip club and into a more comfortable location. Apparently that was a worn booth in a diner down that street from Daisy’s that looked like it had been stuck in a time warp since 1950. There was a small jukebox at the end of the table that Ryan flipped through with a focus that would have rivaled a brain surgeon. She needed a moment to get her head wrapped around the fact that she’d let someone think she was an escort.
It seemed odd even to her: The girl who had only minutes before freaked out on a customer because he’d treated her like a prostitute allowed someone else to think she was an escort less than fifteen minutes later. But as she let her eyes drift over to Ben quickly, she knew there was a difference. The guy in the club had been smarmy and objectifying. Ben had been nothing but respectful and kind, and as a professional athlete—a fact she’d confirmed with a quick google search in the diner bathroom—had a lot more to lose in their deal than she did. They were helping each other—both getting something they fundamentally needed out of the deal, even if Ben didn’t realize how much he was helping her.
Ryan crossed her arms on the Formica tabletop and stared at him. One thing was for sure, the man knew how to fill out a shirt.
“Uh . . . thanks?” Ben was looking at her with his forehead creased and his eyes slightly narrowed.
Oh shit. “Did I say that out loud?”
“If by ‘that’ you mean telling me I fill out a shirt, then yes.”
Ryan nodded. Because of course she’d speak without letting her brain in on the action. “Can you forget you heard it?”
“Probably not.”
Deciding that the best way past this awkward moment was to move forward as it if it hadn’t happened, Ryan forged ahead. “So you play hockey?”
“Yeah. I play for the Denver Knights.”
Ryan nodded again. “Is it as boring to play as it is to watch?” Her eyes widened as she processed the
words she’d just spoken.
But Ben—bless him—laughed.
“I’m so sorry. I have this disease called Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome. I’ve been searching tirelessly for a cure.” Ryan was only half kidding.
Ben held up a hand. “No worries. I figure if this is going to work, it’ll help if we’re honest.” He took a sip of his water. “So you don’t like hockey. Any sports you do like?”
Ryan thought for a second. “I was always good at kickball.”
“That’s not a sport.”
“Sure it is. There are leagues that play it.”
“It’s a game kids play on a playground,” Ben argued.
“Well, it seems to also be something old men with beer bellies play on the rundown field near where I used to live. They had uniforms and everything.”
“A uniform doesn’t make something a sport.”
Ryan shrugged. “It doesn’t make something not a sport either.”
Ben narrowed his eyes at her. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“A lot of what I say doesn’t. It’s the Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome. You’ll get used to it.”
Ben opened his mouth, but quickly closed it as the waitress set their meals down in front of them. “Thank you,” Ben said with a smile.
“No problem,” the waitress replied. “Need anything else?”
Ben looked to Ryan. “Nope,” she said. “I think we’re all set.”
The waitress walked away, and Ben and Ryan dug in. Ryan kept lifting her eyes to watch Ben eat. He was tidier than she’d expected, considering his size and profession. She figured he’d shovel food into his mouth like a bear preparing for hibernation. But instead, he methodically cut his open-faced turkey platter into neat chunks and forked them carefully into his mouth, wiping his lips with his napkin after almost every bite.
“Your commitment to your napkin is pretty impressive.” For fuck’s sake.
Ben set his fork down and looked at her. “My mom was big on manners. When I’m eating with my boys, I probably look like a caveman.”
“Speaking of your boys, what happened to them? Did you ditch them there?”
Chuckling, Ben replied, “Nah, I texted them to let them know I’d found what I was looking for, and that I’d talk to them later.”
Ryan dipped a fry in some ketchup. “Why’d you guys go there to find an escort anyway?”
“My friend Gabe said the girls who worked there were escorts.”
Ryan couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of her. “Where’d he hear that?”
Ben scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not really sure.”
“Well, he should get better information next time.”
Cocking his head slightly, Ben’s gaze assessed her. “But I found you there. So obviously there are some escorts who work there.”
Ryan struggled to keep the panic off her face as she racked her brain for an explanation. She couldn’t let him know she wasn’t one. He’d fire her, and she needed the money too badly to let that happen. “Oh . . . well, yeah . . . I mean, no. I don’t work there. I was . . . visiting.”
“You were visiting a strip club?”
“I know some of the girls who work there. I like to stop in from time to time to be supportive.” Supportive? What am I even talking about right now?
“Oh. Okay. That makes sense, I guess.”
“It does?” Ryan cleared her throat. “I mean, it does. Us girls gotta stick together.”
Ben nodded like he understood her logic, even though she was sure she’d never sounded more illogical. “So is there someone I need to contact? Someone who I have to book you through?” Ben looked uncomfortable asking the question, and it made her warm toward him even more.
“No. I freelance.”
“A freelance escort? Isn’t that kind of . . . dangerous?” Ben seemed genuinely worried. It made her want to hug him.
“I’m good at reading people. I’ve never had any trouble.”
“How do you meet clients if you don’t work though an agency?”
“Mostly through word of mouth.” The lies were rolling off her tongue easier now. She’d be worried about the clear loss of her moral compass if sitting there with Ben hadn’t felt so right. She was doing a good thing—helping someone who could easily become a friend if they weren’t on such opposite ends of the fiscal spectrum.
Ben wiped his mouth with his napkin before dropping it back in his lap and looking at her intently. “There is one thing we need to discuss.” His expression was almost grave, as if he were about to tell her he needed to murder her but he was extremely sorry about it.
Ryan took a deep breath and prepared herself for the moment she knew was imminent: where he’d say something creepy and ruin the good impression he’d initially projected.
“I’m going to need you to sign a nondisclosure agreement. I mean, I don’t want you to feel unprotected. You can check in with a friend or something and let them know the hotel we’ll be staying at or whatever. But I’ll need you to keep my name and the reason for your visit there to yourself.”
Her mouth had been poised to reply to something horrifying, but she closed it quickly when she processed his words. She knew this should probably alarm her, but it didn’t. Ryan had been taking care of herself for a long time, and against people who had a lot less to lose than a famous athlete who had an image to uphold. “Oh. Okay. I can do that.”
“I just . . . I need you to know how serious this is for me. If the media—or my family—found out I hired an escort, I’d be in deep shit. It needs to stay between the two of us.”
Ryan wanted to reassure him that she wanted it to stay between the two of them too, since she’d never done something like this before and didn’t plan on ever doing it again. But there was no way she could tell him that. “I understand. In my . . . business, I need to remain discreet, and keep things confidential with clients. No one will hear your name from me.”
He looked at her for a minute as if he were trying to gauge her sincerity. He must have been reassured because he gave her a single nod before extending his hand across the table. “So it’s a deal then?” he asked.
Smiling, she shook his hand. “Yup. It’s a deal.”
* * *
Ben was enjoying talking with Ryan. The way her every thought seemed to tumble out of her mouth reminded him of Gabe. A much more attractive Gabe. It had been a while since Ben had been out on a date with a woman who piqued his interest like this. Not that this was a date, per se. The whole paid escort thing kind of cancelled any semblance of a romantic element right out of the evening.
But he was fairly certain that he could easily fake date her in a way that would fool his family. How hard could it be to feign attraction to a beautiful woman? Not very. His only real concern was that Ryan would blurt out the entire situation immediately upon meeting his mother. “So how long have you been doing this?”
She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Eating?”
Ben laughed—a genuine rumble from deep in his chest that only his closest friends could draw out of him. “No, I meant the escorting.” He said the last word quietly so as not to be overheard. He wasn’t sure how Ryan felt about her job. She seemed completely at ease with herself, but he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to share her career choice with strangers in a diner.
She quickly set her fork down before picking it up again and putting the eggs in her mouth, chewing for a moment. “Oh. Um . . . let’s see. It’s almost June, so I guess that makes it . . . a year. Almost.”
Ben looked at her: the way her eyes darted around, the way she bit her lower lip, and how tense she’d become. Maybe it was a more uncomfortable topic than he’d thought.
Before he could reply, she began speaking again. “I kind of . . . stumbled into it. So I’m not completely sure when my official start date would’ve been.”
Ben nodded as he searched his brain to think of a way to salvage this conversation. “What’s your background?
Do you have a big family?”
From the way her eyes shuttered, that topic was worse than the previous one.
“I just mean, well, my family is kind of intense. I wasn’t sure if I should start preparing you now or if you had experience with nosy, pretentious parents.” Ben forced out a laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Ryan pushed food around on her plate for a second before lifting her eyes back to him. “My family situation is . . . complicated. I’m not sure I can relate to nosy and pretentious. But I’m highly adaptable, so it shouldn’t be a problem convincing them that I’m the real deal.”
Ben took a deep breath and released it slowly. Her gaze held an earnestness that he couldn’t help but trust. “I believe you. And I’m sorry if I came across like I doubted your abilities. You’re a professional after all,” he added with a smile.
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Totally.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, Ben not trusting himself any longer to steer the conversation in a positive direction. He’d wait for her to speak.
“Are you and your brother close?” she eventually asked.
Now it was his turn to be uncomfortable. He shifted slightly before answering. “No. We don’t really get along.”
“Oh. That’s weird.” She did that eye-saucer thing again which let him know she’d likely spoken without thinking.
Ben couldn’t help but laugh. “Why is it weird?”
Ryan shrugged. “You seem so . . . likable. I can’t imagine anyone not getting along with you.”
Ben felt a little warmth spread through him at the compliment. “I’m not sure how true that is—or that you’ll even still feel that way when you get to know me—but thanks.”
“Only one way to find out I guess,” she said with an endearing smile that lit up her entire face.
Ben returned the smile. “Guess so.”
Once they were both finished with their meals and Ben had settled the tab, they walked out front. Ben had arranged for an Uber while they were still inside, and now it sat idling in the parking lot. He led them toward it and opened the door for her to climb in.
The Proposition Page 3
